


Another chapter in our story is over, love

by crushing83



Series: Bullets and Blades [1]
Category: Fast and the Furious Series, The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Bard is reincarnated, Bard lives many lives, M/M, Mention of Character Death, Modern Era, Reincarnation, happens a few years before Fast & Furious 6, pre-Furious 6, somehow Thranduil finds him almost every time, this part happens before Thranduil and Owen meet, uncertain use of elvish
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-05
Updated: 2015-05-05
Packaged: 2018-03-29 05:47:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,125
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3884722
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crushing83/pseuds/crushing83
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thranduil has a ritual. At the end of his grieving period, he visits his love's grave and remembers all that he can bear before walking away and rediscovering what the world has to offer. </p>
            </blockquote>





	Another chapter in our story is over, love

Thranduil looked out over the graveyard, watching his frosty breath cloud in front of him before dissolving into the winter air. After three long, measured exhalations, he turned his attention back to the tombstone in front of him. 

_Michael Pond_  
1921-1978  
Treasured friend, love  
Visionary 

The elf frowned down at the marble. "Visionary," he muttered. "That word does not do you and your body of work justice."

Michael Pond had been an artist. A brilliant artist, who saw the world in a way that made Thranduil forget how close-minded the people in it had become. When they were together, public opinion was against them; they were careful, but in the end, it hadn't really mattered. Malignant growths had taken over his lungs, suffocated him from the inside, wasted him away until he was begging Thranduil for the relief only death could bring. 

He hadn't been able to do it. Instead, he listened to his love---one of the many reincarnations of his first mortal love---curse him as he did his best to provide every comfort but that fatal one. 

Michael died, gasping for breath, with Thranduil's arms around him and his hand clasped in his sister's, and with his passing, Thranduil felt his heart break again. 

He didn't know if he should curse the powers that be (if they existed) or praise them. He'd lost Bard to time and he thought his heart would never recover. The traditions of elves and man were different in death; if Thranduil left his lands with his kin, he would have abandoned Bard's memory and soul. 

They would never meet again if he left; even if Thranduil would not encounter him again (in life or in death), he had not been able to willingly abandon the possibility. 

He chose to stay behind---a few other elves chose to do so, too, but as the years passed, he lost track of them---and look after the forest and his dragon-slayer's legacy: his children and their children and so on. 

He hadn't counted on ever seeing Bard again, except in his dreams. But, after what felt like (and probably was) centuries in close-to-complete isolation, he'd gone exploring and found a man that resembled Bard in more ways than the physical. The man had a different name and occupation---Cadoc and blacksmith---but he was so similar and they were so compatible that Thranduil could not dismiss the notion that his lover had been reborn. 

The elf had been saddened to learn Cadoc would not remember his life as Bard, but he did not let that ruin the second chance. He tried to love the man for who he was, but it was difficult to separate the memories of Bard from the relationship with Cadoc. 

When an accidental fire took his lover's life, Thranduil was devastated. He retreated to the trees and remained there for many years; he only ventured out into the nearby towns (for there were more at this point) when he needed supplies he could not glean from his forest. 

That was when he found Erik. His hair was longer, his beard was thicker, but it was his Bard, all over again. Erik saw Thranduil's bow and challenged him to a shooting contest. Thranduil won all but the last shot; Erik had been impressed and insisted on taking his new friend to a tavern for ale. 

Thranduil and Erik lived together, land between the forest and the town, for almost sixty years. 

The ghost of Bard (and to a lesser extent, of Cadoc) was never far from Thranduil's mind. If Erik knew another was haunting his partner, he said nothing of it. 

When he died, Thranduil withdrew to his forest and mourned. 

It continued on like that, nearly regular cycles of love and loss, for many years---so many years that Thranduil lost count. He remembered their names, though. He remembered their kisses---most scruffy, a few clean-shaven---and their embraces---always safe and solid. He remembered their families when they had them---Bard's reincarnations often had children or siblings, but they were also alone in the world upon occasion---and he did his best to keep track of all their bloodlines. It gave him something to do when the grief was too much to bear in inactivity. 

Michael had been the last. Thranduil had almost dropped his glamours (of age and of an unscarred face) and told him the truth---about him, about their past lives---because of all the people he'd loved, surely, he thought, an artist would understand. But, he'd been afraid he'd ruin whatever magic kept Bard tied to him; he kept his mouth shut. 

The artist died thirty years ago. Thranduil could no long retreat to the forest---there was so little forest left in the world, and what was there was disappearing little by little every year---but he had a home far removed from the busy world and he had retreated there until he felt it was time to explore again. 

It was a ritual of his, to see his lover's grave one last time, before walking away, tending to his business (investments needed moving, identities needed establishing), catching up on what he had missed, and sometimes traveling to a new location (because it wasn't good to remain in one place for too long). 

The ritual hurt, but it gave him time to remember all the lives and loves. 

"Bard," Thranduil whispered into the cold air, "if you are returning to me by your own power, know that I am grateful you have not left me completely alone but that I would not begrudge your soul its much-needed rest.

"I want you to find peace, _meleth nín,_ even if it means staying wherever you go when you leave me." 

He tipped his head back and looked up at the stars. The constellations his father taught him were long gone, but he learned the new ones as the people around him did. Earlier cultures believed they were the heavens, each twinkle a soul looking down on the world; even though science had proven that notion wrong, Thranduil liked to believe those he held dear could see him, could watch over him as he endured in a way his kingdom had not. 

"Thank you," he added quietly. "Thank you for returning to me. Michael was a gift. He saw the world in a way I have not for thousands of years. I forgot how beautiful it could be." 

He looked down once more at Michael's grave marker and sighed. 

_"Le melithon anuir,"_ he whispered. 

He adjusted his scarf and put his hands in his coat pockets. After another breath, he turned and walked towards the path that would take him to his car. 

**Author's Note:**

> I started this when I did a rewatch of the Fast & Furious movies to "prepare" for Furious 7. I liked the idea of Owen and Thranduil together, played with the idea a bit in my ficlets collection, and it would not leave me alone. A longer story arc began to take shape. 
> 
> I tried as much as I could to keep others' reincarnation stories separate from this one, I don't want to copy someone else's ideas. Hopefully no one takes offense to me trying this angle at Bard/Thranduil. Thanks for reading, and I hope to have the next story posted soon! 
> 
> Translations:  
> I will love you forever = Le melithon anuir  
> My love = meleth nín
> 
> (I don't know if this would be the dialect Thranduil would have spoken (I find pages about elvish languages very confusing), but it was on an easy to navigate page that made sense, so I went with it. Corrections or suggestions welcome.)


End file.
